#wilbur soot songfic

[genevawrenn]

Stay With Me, Let's Just Breathe

✨Wilbur Soot & Tommyinnit [Crimeboys]

✨4.2k W.C.

✨Wilbur Soot-centric

✨Graphic Depictions Of Violence & Zombie Apocalypse

✨An exchange with Bogelinga for SBI Holiday Exchange 2023 (by @ringravity)

🎵Just Breathe by Pearl Jam

[brainrotmybelovd]

Cigarettes out the Window

_____________________________________________________________

My love Wilbur used to always smoke, cigarettes when he couldn’t sleep. He’d disappear for an hour and a half. And when he’d come back, he’d brush his teeth.

But I could still smell it on his raggedy coat, and I could still taste it on his lips when we kissed.

Poor Wilbur would always quit, but he never trally quit, he’d just say he did.

Cigarettes, cigarettes out the window (oh-oh)

Cigarettes, cigarettes out the window (oh-oh)

My love Wilbur used to always smoke, cigarettes when he couldn’t sleep.

Poor little Wilbur, he wishes it was dark. But it’s never really dark in London.

Light from the buildings always shone, but it changed from time when he went away.

Cigarettes, cigarettes out the window (oh-oh)

Cigarettes, cigarettes out the window (oh-oh)

_____________________________________________________________

"You'll find moonlit nights strangely empty because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer."

“Rather melodramatic, aren’t you?”

"You'll find moonlit nights strangely empty because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer."

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

"You'll find moonlit nights strangely empty because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer."

“I always smoke at the theatre.”

"You'll find moonlit nights strangely empty because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer."

“It somehow… enhances the performance.”

_____________________________________________________________

[bee-dot-exe]

@pebblebrainlovejoy Surprise. I don't know if you were actually expecting anyone to see that post and something come of it, and I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind, but here you go. The more I wrote the more I was kind of putting my own thoughts and feelings into it without totally meaning to. I haven't really written anything like this before in this genre but I really like the way it turned out and I'm really proud of it. And so I present to you a Wilbur Soot x reader slightly angsty songfic based off Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy.

Jet Pack Blues

Angst

Dissociation

Bittersweet ending

395 words

The combination of car engine vibrations, the bumps of road and rock beneath, and the gentle melodic downpour lulled me as I drove, a sort of trance came over me as my focus centered on the white lines of the highway ahead of me.

No cars passed as I journeyed, the occasional street lamp shining overhead the only thing seemingly existing at this hour, both a friend and enemy, a competitor to the blanket of screaming silence. A reminder that I am conscious yet not entirely awake, aware but dreaming, alive but not entirely existing.

I was pulling into the small parking lot and the engine came to a stop before I could fully comprehend, I stepped out of the car and stepped into the empty playground, I sat on the swing and let my eyes close as the crickets and frogs created a symphony around me.

"Wil?"

I opened my eyes at the sound of my name. They stood in front of me wearing a long black coat, shivering slightly from both the garment and their hair being damp, despite it being decently warm for the time of evening, tears and raindrops combined making it difficult to decipher the wetness on their face.

"Hi." They practically whispered.

"What are you doing here?"

"I knew where to look."

"What time is it?"

"Late."

They sat on the swing next to me and looked ahead into the night, both of us silent for what was probably in reality a minute or two, hair dripping.

"Baby?"

I looked to my right at them, now stood up, a wobble of near desperation in their voice, a hand outstretched.

"Come home."

I looked at their hand, then at their face, streaks of tears surprisingly apparent now as the moon highlighted their figure, I felt pressure build behind my own eyes and soon my face looked similar to theirs. I nodded softly.

They moved in front of me and kissed me gently, it was soft and kind and a tad salty, our foreheads resting on each other for a few seconds after, before I took their hand in support, mental and physical.

"Thank you."

And we were back in the car, the heat just high enough, the combination of car engine vibrations, the bumps of road and rock beneath, and the gentle melodic downpour lulled me as we went home.

[isaisalive]

hehe here's a little writing i did based on jubilee line!

Stop wasting my time.

Anger. It chilled her bones. Numbed her. She was wasting their time? How dare they say that. She huffed, her breath puffing out shortly. 

You’re wasting mine.

She replied. Chill. Casual. Still angry. Still hurtful. 

A movement on the left side of her screen caught her eye. A green bubble, not so green anymore. They were gone. 

No, no, no, no. They hadn’t left her, couldn’t have left her. No, this couldn’t be. Who knew who would leave her next? This was only the start. 

You’ve left again?

Still casual. Still angry. Still hurtful. 

No reply came. And yet again, just like the last twenty-something times, her mind was gone. So gone, so dark, so dreadful. A rabbithole of worries. 

They hate you, they never cared for you. What makes you think they actually liked you in the first place? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

Over and Over again. In the back of her mind she knew it was futile, pointless to resist. 

Hey mind. A dark, horrid place. If she had to stay there any longer, she knew it would be so much worse than dying. In any way.

A dry laugh forced her way out of her throat. Let them leave. Let them leave her and all her sorrows and problems behind. Because she was the one who was really leaving. Tonight. 

The city was polluted, the water was undrinkable, the pavement was hard. Too hard. What was there to love? She would be glad to leave everything behind. Especially them.

And then the walls started moving. Closing in tighter, tighter every second. Suffocating her, forcing her to move, to change. They didn’t love her. No one did, so why was she surprised? She shouted, screamed, fighting them. Hitting back against the endless pressure, the people (what was she saying? No, the walls, the walls) pressing against her. She was drowning, suffocating. 

She fought, moving away, away, anywhere except for back to them, back to the awful, hating walls. 

She ended up pressed up against the barriers. Separating her from the tube line, from the rails. 

She just needed, just needed to check her phone. To make sure she wouldn't be making the wrong decision. Tonight…or maybe now.

Tell me when you see this message ok?

Her heart lifted up. They wanted to talk to her!

I’m here. 

Good. I wanted to make sure you were here when I got rid of you. Bye forever.

A single message appeared on her screen

BLOCKED

And suddenly she knew. There was a reason for the barriers. But there was also a reason why they always, always, always failed.

(shhhh ik it's not totally coherent that's ok)

also plz tell me if u liked it i have a lot of stuff like this j lying around lmao

[modelbus]

HII!! I REALLY LIKE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH!! I just read your wilbur soot fic "Radar Detector" and I really LOVED it. I was hoping you could do another wilbur soot songfic cause theyre so good😭 (preferably lover by taylor swift or just any taylor swift song that you'd like.

THATS ALL!! MWA I LOVE UR WRITING!!🫶

I'm so excited to do another song fic you have no idea. Also, a confession: I'm a closet Swiftie...

Pairing: CC!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Lover

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January And this is our place, we make the rules

The tree in the living room was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. In your tiredness, all the colorful lights were out of focus and created a mesh of blob colors. It was pretty, in the way that abstract art flows together.

"We really should take that down." Wilbur says from behind you, and you realize that the general warmth around you is him. The arm over your waist, holding you to him and the couch? Him.

"We can leave it up." You answer, yawning. "I like it."

"It's not Christmastime anymore, love." He smiles into your shoulder, making you smile too.

Something about him generates happiness. In your hazy vision, spotted with colorful christmas lights, you can't imagine anything better.

"So? This is our flat."

He laughs. "Point taken."

We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call.

"You're fine, right?" You ask Tommy, giving him a pointed look.

For once in his life, the boy knows how to be subtle and nods. "Yeah, yeah, I'm great."

"We have more blankets if you want them!" Wilbur announces, strolling in with his arms full of blankets. He dumps them all on top of Tommy, eyebrows creased with worry. "You sure you don't mind staying on the couch?"

He nods, rolling his eyes. "I used to sleep on your floor, Wil."

"That was different! And I gave you an air mattress that time!"

"Which is practically the floor. I'm a big man, I can take the fucking couch."

Wilbur turns to you, as if you'll take his side. You may be dating him, but that doesn't mean you're agreeing with him.

"He'll be fine, Wilbur." You assure him.

Tommy was only staying for the night, anyway. One of his vlogs ran late, leaving him here way after dark. And Wilbur wouldn't stand for letting him head home at this time of night. Honestly, you found their brother thing endearing. And it made Wilbur happy, which made you happy.

Besides, Tommy was a good kid. A nightmare at times, but good in heart. Mostly.

Wilbur gives a regretful look at your couch (which is actually pretty nice) before sighing. "Fine, fine. We'll be just down the hall if something happens, so just... wake us. Yeah?"

"Wilbur!" Tommy groans. "Fuck off! I can sleep on your couch!"

"I know! I'm just making sure!"

"Go fucking cuddle or something." Tommy huffs, settling under all the blankets and turning his back to Wilbur.

You laugh softly, flicking off the lights. "C'mon love. Good night, Tommy."

"Night." Wilbur echoes your words, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you so you don't run into a wall on your way to the bedroom. "He'll be fine, right?"

"Of course he will." You say, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. "Now it's our turn to get some rest. Go do your night routine, or whatever."

"Will do." Wilbur agrees, quietly heading off toward the bathroom.

With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.

You ran your thumb over the inside of his palm, prompting Wilbur to squeeze your fingers in return. The callouses on his fingers are rough against your skin, but you don't mind. They're testaments to his love for music, to his commitment to it.

You love them simply because they're a part of him.

"I promised to teach you guitar one day." Wilbur reminds you, voice soft.

"And I still want to learn." You assure him, a smile gracing your face. "Maybe one day I'll get callouses like yours." You add in as a tease.

"No guitar string scars though." He raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. It makes you laugh. "I'll teach you how to play guitar safely."

"What, and you don't play safely?"

He nudges you, because you know the answer to that. You've seen too many broken picks and snapped guitar strings. There's a faint scar on his palm where a snapped string cut him, even.

"You'll be so bad at guitar." Wilbur says with a grin. "I can't wait to love you for it."

"Hey!"

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover.

"I'm dying." Wilbur announces, draping himself over the back of your chair dramatically. "I've been shot. I'm dying."

You can't help but roll your eyes, laughing. "Wil, it was a Nerf dart."

"Tell my friends and family I love them." He wails, squeezing onto your hand. "I'll miss you."

"You aren't dying."

"Oh goodbye world! I yearn to feel the sun upon my face, but alas, I die in the cold night!"

"Oh Wilbur!" Tommy crows, darting around a corner with a raised Nerf gun.

Wilbur shouts, hands going for his own Nerf gun, finding nothing. In response, Tommy's smile widens into something evil as he holds up a second Nerf gun.

"Who's the bitch boy?" He asks, eyes wide with delight.

You burst into loud laughter as Wilbur runs from the room, sliding on the wooden floors in his socks.

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover.

Hand on the back of the chair, Wilbur pulls it away from the cloth-covered table for you. You can’t help your grateful smile, sinking into it without a second thought. The wedding you two were at was busy, and you had been on your feet for literal hours. He was a godsend at this moment, and judging by his grin he knew it.

“Water?” You ask, holding up a bottle of water for him. You had originally left his side to grab some, knowing he was thirsty but wouldn’t ask for a water.

“Thank you.” Wilbur says, taking it from you. He presses a kiss to your head before pushing in your chair and sitting down at the one next to you, which has his suit jacket thrown over the back. “Almost payment enough for saving your chair?”

“Almost?” The laugh you let out isn’t dignified in the slightest, but his eyes sparkle like it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“I had to fight a guy off with my fists to keep it.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’ll never know if it is or isn’t.” He teases, taking a sip of the water. “But I deserve better payment.”

With a roll of your eyes, you lean forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. He cups your cheek, catching your face before you can pull away, just to prolong the kiss for a moment more before he lets go.

“Happy?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“The happiest.”

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

If a Moment is All We Are

by MusicalWanderer18

Wilbur wonders just how fitting it is for a villain like him to face his worst fears, an unknown amount of alone time greeted him like a scorned lover.

Glancing up at the screen, he feels the last bit of hope the blonde was safer without him being snuffed out, watching the horrible last few moments of Tommy’s life. Watching him speak with his forever enemy, trapped in the prison as the end approaches. There's a certain acceptance surrounding the trio Wilbur felt akin too, knowing there was nothing they could do.

It was far too late to reconsider.

Wilbur falls to his knees as the screen flashes impossibly bright, before going black.

~~~

Wilbur wakes up on a train back to limbo and reminisces over what he left behind before grappling with the guilt surrounding Tommy's death.

Words: 3407, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 7 of Wilbur Soot-Centric Stories, Part 15 of One Shots Where the Lore Went a Bit...Different

Fandoms: Dream SMP, Minecraft (Video Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit

Additional Tags: Angst, Songfic, One Shot, To Be Edited, Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Not Beta Read, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, Sad Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot-centric, Protective Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Limbo, Wilbur Soot's Personal Limbo, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Grief/Mourning, blame, Regret, Crimeboys - Freeform, crime boys, L'Manberg | L'Manburg on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Founding of L'Manberg | L'Manburg on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Graphic Description, Blood, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Lightning - Freeform, being struck by lightning, Trains, Train Station

[allywritesforfun]

Hi! Can we get a wilbur x reader where reader is a broadway actress and plays eliza?

hi! thank you so much! im gonna do my best because its been a while since I watched Hamilton lets so pray this turns out okay. (I also have no experience in theatre except for what that one guy on tiktok)

{Helpless} Wilbur Soot x BroadwayActress!Reader

summary: you can't help but to keep staring at some guy helping out with the set. you do everything to meet him and get to know him better.

pronouns: she/her

word count: 1011

trigger warnings: mentions of painkillers

a/n: kind of a songfic? not really? maybe? idk im not musical

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

You sat in front of the led mirror. You started feel a headache from the brightness. Good thing you took some painkillers before you had to get your hair and make up done. You started humming to yourself to keep calm. This was opening day of Hamilton, and somehow you got casted as the strong female lead: Eliza.

This was truly a dream come true. You went from putting on fake concerts in your parents basement to broadway. This felt so surreal. So empowering.

You heard a knock on your door. "Come in!" You called.

A tall man appeared from the doorway, and my god was he cute. His fluffy brown hair was long enough to cover one of his eyes. His soft hands held a mic pack, "They're getting ready to do mic checks, care if I put this on you?"

You nodded, "Of course!"

The man smiled at you, "You know the drill. Just like at practice I'm gonna hide this little thing in your hairline and...all done. Thank you miss!"

You smiled and waved at the man as he walked out of the room. You turned back to the mirror and tried to remember your lines, but you just couldn't. That man, he infected your mind. You couldn't stop thinking about him. You didn't even know his name.

You stood up and peeped out the door to go find him, but he was already gone.

"Y/n!" One of your cast friends called. "Whatcha doing? You should be out there getting set for mics!"

You nodded, "I-I am. Some cute man just put my mic on."

"Wilbur?" They asked.

You shrugged, "I'm not sure. He took my breath away and I never got the chance to ask his name.

They laughed, "It was probably Wilbur. They just hired him because one of the old mic runners was feeling sick."

You nodded, "I have to get to know him."

They gestured towards the curtain, "Well go out there! He's probably helping readjusting mics!"

You picked up your dress and jogged to the front. You stood in the line of people. They went down the row, asking for names and mic pack number.

"You?" They called down, looking at you.

"Oh um-" You turned around, trying to see the number on your pack, "I need a little help. I'm not quite sure what pack I'm using."

"Oh I'm sorry!" A man called from behind the curtain. He stepped out, the light hitting his smooth skin perfectly. "It's mic three! That's on me, I forgot to tell her what mic pack she's using."

You took a deep breath, "Eliza, mic three."

"And can you sing a bit?"

You looked back at where Wilbur was standing, "Boy you got me helpless~"

"And take a deep breath out."

You did as told and they gave you the thumbs up. After mic checks were over you went back to the main hall and waited with the rest of the cast. You met up with your friend.

"Someone has you helpless," They playfully shoved you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Don't make fun of my little crush. He's just cute, that's all."

They grabbed your hand, "Then let's go meet him then!"

You put your foot down, "I'm not really one to be in the spotlight. You can go ahead. I don't really want that type of attention on me, it's not my thing."

"Okay, okay," They said. "I'm gonna go over there and get him laughing. You just be stalking in the background and then I'll call you over."

You nodded, "Maybe, I can't promise anything."

They let go of your hand and waltzed their way to Wilbur. He noticed them walking towards him and smiled. Boom. That smile made your heart explode into pieces. It was so pure and welcoming.

You started to pace around, keeping a careful eye on him. You looked away every time that he would try to make eye contact with you. You could tell that he was curious about you.

You couldn't hear what they were talking about. The room was really loud with calls getting yelled and people warming up.

Finally, your friend started waving their arm at you to come over. You made eye contact with Wilbur, instantly losing your breath from how beautiful they were. They sparkled with the light and pulled you under, taking your breath away.

"This is y/n!" Your friend introduced. "She's gonna change your life!"

Wilbur offered his hand to you, you gently took it, "Well if it takes someone getting sick to meet you, it would've been well worth it."

You smiled at him, "You're Wilbur, right?"

He nodded, "Soot, Wilbur Soot. I've done other shows before, but nothing of this size."

Your friend came between you two, placing one arm on both of your shoulder, "You two get to talking! I'm gonna go get some punch!"

"Have you been in theatre for long?" He asked you.

You nodded, "I've been doing all types of plays and musicals since I was in middle school. This truly is my dream to be here right now."

Wilbur squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips, "I'm glad that you followed your dream, otherwise I don't think we would've met."

You blushed at him, taking your hand back, "At least take me on a date first."

"I will, but don't expect anything too fancy," Wilbur scratched the back of his neck and looked away. "I don't really have a dime to my name at the moment. I'm still in college trying to get a masters in music, all types of music. I'm struggling right now. But I promise you, this is going to be the best low budget date of your life! Do you want that?"

You smiled, "I do."

He smiled back, pulling you into a hug, "You're gonna be so happy. I promise you." He pulled back and placed his hands on your shoulders. "Now, you take your goddamn beautiful self out there and steal that show."

[unhonest-iago]

London Boy

Gn reader

Basically I really love London Boy as a Wilbur song

'Babe, you're up.' Wilbur nudged, your boyfriend having been the one to invite you to karaoke night. The night starting off rocky, y/n not knowing Wilbur's streaming friend all too well. Luckily hitting it off despite not being a streamer themselves. 'Budge over so I can get up.' Shuffling in front of him so they could get to the small stage.

'I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal. And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey' A few of them picking up on the song choice. Y/n hearing someone call Wilbur 'lover boy' as they coyly sang. First meeting in a small cafe-y/n studying abroad, originally from the states. Later hitting it off and exchanging numbers when they found out the other was in a band. Y/n being the one to watch one of Wilbur's shows, surprising him afterwards. Wilbur immediately pulling them into a hug despite being drenched in sweat.

'But something happened, I heard him laughing. I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent.' The singer giving his muse heart eyes. Head tilted back to show off the mentioned dimples. The ones that shaped teasing sentences, flustering y/n to a stutter. 'They say home is where the heart is but that's not where mine lives.' Y/n shortly moving in with Wilbur half a year later, fans knowing them as the apparition in his streams. Finally introducing them to chat, competing in multiple rounds of geoguessr.

'You know I love a London boy, I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon. He likes my American smile. Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you' Making eye contact with him, as if he was the only one in the room with them. A staple joke between the couple during their honeymoon stage was to make fun of the other accent. Wilbur's American accent startled the shit out of y/n the first few times, sounding like a text-to-speech voice. Stealing his British terms of endearment.

'Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates. So I guess all the rumors are true. You know I love a London boy.' For their anniversary, Wilbur showed them all the sites London had to offer. Acting as if they were annoying tourists, vlogging bits and pieces. Wilbur never did upload those clips onto the web, keeping them hidden. Precious memories to look back on later.

'But God, I love the English.'

[ideaforfanficsorsomethingidgaf]

Idea for a fanfic. Please tag/credit me if you make it.

Whether you make it into words or moving pictures. Brother by Madds Buckley. Wilbur, Tommy, Technoblade.

[genevawrenn]

I Am the Beast That Survived

✨q!Philza & q!Chayanne & q!Tallulah

✨4.3k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

✨Graphic Depictions Of Violence & MCD

🎵 Here Come the Ravens by Avaitors

[fictionfixations]

100 Years / A Post-Passerine SongFic

After the events of Passerine, there sat Wilbur, sitting next to Tommy's grave, and singing him a song he made, reminiscing about the past. ☽✦☾ Passerine by blujamas 100 Years by OR3O

another songfic lol

uh. funny story- so I started this oneshot on the 8th of August, and then procrastinated until today where my playlist played 100 years and I was like 'oh yeah I have that WIP-' and then speed ran it and cried because im emotional as fuck

lmAO

woo we all love passerine dont we

[wonder-womans-ex]

You Were the Storm

Saint's eyes are closed, and he can feel the wind in his hair. The ocean air is clean and cold, a blissful reminder of the world around him. Music blares from his earbuds, filling his mind and giving him a steady, unchanging rhythm to live to.

Somewhere inside, he can feel the storm clouds rolling in; he can feel the world grow a bit darker. He isn't afraid, though. Not today.

He steps down, off of a piece of driftwood and onto the cool, soft sand. A wave crashes against the shore, dusting him with a gentle spray of seawater.

The rain comes slowly at first, droplets splattering against his shoulders and the tip of his nose. Then they grow faster, soaking his hair and the sand beneath his toes.

It beats down against the ocean, doing barely anything to calm the choppy surface. Whitecaps sit atop nearly every wave, temporary crowns gracing temporary rulers.

Each raindrop feels like a miracle against his skin. He's blessed; he's been chosen by the skies and the storms that wait within them.

He feels beautiful for the first time in a while.

A single voice rises above the cacophony that serenades every atom in his body. At first, he thinks it's part of the song, but then it grows louder, clearer, unignorable and unmistakable.

"Saint!" calls Luke. "What are you doing, you fucking idiot?"

"Nothing!" Saint shouts over the din of the wind and song.

"You're going to die!"

A grin spreads across Saint's face, even though he tries to stifle it. "What's life without a little risk?"

He spins around, turning his back to the viscous repetition of the ocean, and sees that Luke is still lingering by the edge of the beach.

That won't do. Everyone knows that the place where the land meets the water is the place where the spirits of the island linger, and the storms are when they let themselves live again.

"Come on, Tweedle!"

Luke hesitates, then starts to walk forwards, picking his way through the logs and washed-up patches of seaweed. His hair plasters itself to his forehead, rainwater running down his arms and lets and the last fragments of God-hood away.

"If I die of pneumonia, it's your fault." By now, Luke is close enough that they don't have to shout to hear each other, even with Saint's earbuds still in.

He pulls them out—first the left, then the right—and lets them dangle by his side. "You're not going to die, God."

"Not all of us are weathered heathens like you, Hollow."

Their eyes meet, and Saint sees the rain's power living once more in Luke's expression. His eyelashes are clumped together, droplets clinging to the ends, and Saint doesn't think that he's ever seen something more beautiful.

There's a moment of quiet; even the furious storm seems to pause for the split second where something dangerous and tainted and oh-so-real passes between the two of them.

Then everything resumes, and Saint holds out one earbud wordlessly.

Luke doesn't move at first, and the fear that he's done something wrong is like a knife. But then gentle fingers wrap around the tiny piece of plastic—something that looks like nothing, but, if all goes according to plan, might end up meaning everything.

Saint isn't exactly sure what that plan is, but he figures he doesn't need to. After all, he's spent his whole life working things out as he goes along, and today is the last time he wants to make an exception.

They put in the earbuds at the same time, the melodic voice of some British musician singing about London and asthma filling the space between them, and Saint waits for Luke to take whatever this is from standing on the edge of the cliff to hanging by two fingers off the edge.

After all, Saint's always preferred dare over truth.

Luke takes the first step. He twists his hand around Saint's, letting their fingers wend a path between love and trust and doubt.

Saint isn't quite sure what happens form there, and he doesn't think Luke does, either, but he knows that he wouldn't change it for the world.

Because they're dancing.

They're dancing. Because they're crying—or maybe that's the rain—into each other's shoulders. Because they're forgetting the fact that there's something bigger than either of them, and they're just making sure that today, amidst the pouring rain and the ocean's breath, that they'll have something to remember when all of this is over.

.

for @im-oknutzy-trash. happy birthday you wonderful amazing human being <3

characters by @lumosinlove

[shhh-imtryingtocry]

idc idc she will be loved by maroon 5 is a georgebur song😤💗💗

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

The King's Riders

by Violettavonviolet

He was cowering in a hidden tunnel behind the servants chambers, his little brother in his arms, shivering from the cold draft, that the walls just didn’t seem to block.

Outside, they could hear the sound of shouts, the sharp cling of swords crossed and a weird sort of laughter.

If possible, Wilbur grabbed onto Tommy even tighter.

Evidently, they had a rat.

 Or: How the unwilling King Wilbur gets abandoned in his castle, and finds a new family, for him and his brother, in the arms of two soldiers.

Words: 2361, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 32 of writing about mcyt, send help

Fandoms: Dream SMP

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza

Relationships: Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson | Philza

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Historical, King Wilbur Soot, But also, Kid Wilbur Soot, well he’s about fourteen but, Kid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson is Called Philza (Video Blogging RPF), Hero Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Soldier Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), soldier Philza, whys that not a tag, Sleepy Bois Inc as Found Family, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot-centric, Wilbur Soot Loves TommyInnit, Songfic, Go check it out!, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abandonment, but it’s all good now

[wil-legeek]

Some doodles...of the burs from @klesek f(x) wilburs in a trench coat au 'w'

-ghost

[crypty]

Monster

Tell me again About how it hurts Being awfully loud For an introvert

Fundy glared at Wilbur. How dare he show up, claiming to be sorry, promising to be better? How dare he stand there, smile on his face, handing Fundy blue dye as if that would fix it. At best, it would act as a bandaid, covering the wound but not truly healing anything. Wilbur never wanted to fix his messes. 

How dare he swear to change when he’s still making his excuses? “L’Manberg was important”, “I thought you were okay”, “I didn’t mean to”. 

Get out of my room Smile wiped clean Isn't it weird To be so mean?

L’Manberg is important, it hasn’t faded into nothing despite Wilbur’s best efforts. Of course, Wilbur could only focus on one thing at a time. How long would it take for Fundy to be the thing that must be purged? How long would it take for Wilbur to choose violence? How long would it take for Wilbur to rip away what little Fundy clung on to? 

Why was the way Wilbur’s smile wiped off his face so satisfying to Fundy? Why was the pained expression bringing a tired yet joyful grin to Fundy’s lips?

I'm guessing that I've grown horns I guess I'm human no more I can tell I've rotted in your brain Oh, how easily passion twists You think I'm a crazy bitch I craft my words to fit your head 'Cause no one listens to the dead

Of course he thought Fundy was okay. He never bothered to ask. He never bothered to look past the shining smiles and he chose to ignore the glistening tears in Fundy’s eyes. There were other things to worry about. Why care about your son when you could go off with Tommy? Why give him an actual uniform, that would take so much effort. Why try raising your kid when he would just raise himself when you aren’t there? Why put in the effort when you could ignore him? Why try to build a bond, why take your son out, why talk to him? Why treat him like an equal, why respect him. Well, it’s too late now. Fundy didn’t need Wilbur. He doesn’t. Of course not. 

So maybe I will talk to you The only way I know how to Mmm, mmm, I've said my speech Mmm, mmm, through sharpened teeth You break the rules and spikes grow from your skin Please, let the devil in

He was yelling. Why was he still yelling? Wilbur understood how angry he was, he wasn’t trying to inform him. He was trying to hurt. He saw Wilbur fiddle with the blue, staining his hands with the dye. He was crying, they both were. Fundy growled, baring his teeth and bushing up his tail. Wilbur shrank away, avoiding Fundy’s gaze. Fundy noticed that he was bigger than Wilbur now. Maybe it was because he wasn’t scared anymore. 

A meter apart You blankly stare We shout in our heads Are you still in there? Well this ends bad, then We knew it would So we won't eat our words 'Cause they don't taste good

He wondered if Wilbur was still there. If he was present. The last few months of him being alive wasn’t him. Well, it was but not really. It hurt Fundy’s head and heart to think about. They stood a meter apart, a world of distance, centuries away. Fundy wondered if his dad was still there. Wilbur wondered if his son was too far away to recover. Neither took back what was said and done. Neither apologized, neither will. Wilbur forgot, he continued to run, he hid. Fundy stubbornly held on to his hatred, his resentment. They were his most consistent friends, after all. 

I'm guessing that I've grown horns I guess I'm human no more I can tell I've rotted in your brain Oh, how easily passion twists You think I'm a crazy bitch A thousand words are left unsaid 'Cause no one listens to the dead

He hated what he was. He remembered when he was nice. When he loved unconditionally, when he wasn’t scared of being cast aside like trash. He was done yelling - when did he finish? - and they simply stood. Father and son, staring at each other with tears in their eyes and cracks running through their hearts. He turned and ran. That was all he could do. Like father like son, neither could apologize. 

So maybe I will talk to you The only way I know how to Mmm, mmm, I've said my speech Mmm, mmm, through sharpened teeth You break the rules and spikes grow from your skin

He kept running, kept fighting, kept yelling. He ignored his bloodshot eyes when he passed reflective surfaces, he pretended to not see worried glances from friends. Sometimes, even he believed he did not know. More and more often, he found himself curled up, hands covering his ears and tears burning his eyes. He wasn’t ready to let go, to move down the path of acceptance. He was scared. What was he if he did not have the constant ache in his heart, who would he be if he let himself be happy? Fundy wasn’t ready to find out.

Oh-oh, I think it might be worth a try Oh-oh-oh, am I ready to let this die? Mmm, mmm, a monster's here Mmm, mmm, you plug your ears But hey, you might just listen to it sing Please, let the devil in

~~~

Woo this was a LONG one. Inspired by ‘Monster’ by Dodie

Masterlist

https://thelullabyer12.tumblr.com/post/639129395216433152/masterlist-of-2021